Taking Her Place
by kostanda
Summary: An English teacher is brought in for the interim as Christy takes a break from emotional turmoil and returns to Ashville. How could someone new ever replace our favorite teacher? How could anyone fill the void, or the hearts, of the two men we like best?


Disclaimer; as always, I own none of the characters from the Christy TV or novel, etc.

My heart raced with trepidation for more reasons than I cared to list. Some reasons, I did not seem to know in actuality, but in a vague sub-consciousness that screamed how I was descending into a thickening web of feeling.

Dr. Jacob Ferrand rode ahead with a straight back and an eagerness I could not understand. He had hired me on the spot when I'd approached him with a brief question after one of his speeches to the high society of New York. To this moment, I had no idea how he had come to the conclusion that I wished to teach the mountain children of Cutter Gap, Tennessee, nor do I comprehend how I conceded to accompany him into the hills.

They were lovely. In the brief moments I allowed myself a reprieve from the worries in my heart, I noticed the beauty that was swallowing me.

Dr. Jacob Ferrand did not know that I was not of his evangelical faith; I was Church of England-Catholic, nearly. He knew I was a recent immigrant from London, and that it was by mere chance I was in New York at the time of his speech in Central Park. My hope had been to press west. I'd been intrigued by the legend of the Oklahoma land to be taken for free. Now, I was moving easterly again, under circumstances of which I was utterly in the dark, yet I was compelled to follow this adventure before moving onto the next.

Dr. Jacob Ferrand did not know the entirety of my situation, just as I did not know his. I did not know why he was eager to come to Cutter Gap the very next day he hired me. But I saw the mission house that afternoon, stark white against the lovely green of the trees behind it, and I thought perhaps Dr. Jacob Ferrand wanted to show me how pretty the setting was, to deter any questions in my mind.

We rode up to the yard, and he slid down his white horse with confident ease. He glanced at me, and moved with the intent of helping me from my chestnut mount, when two men came around the corner of the porch, arguing continuously under their breath.

"Doctor MacNeill! Reverand!" Dr. Ferrand called out, and the two stopped dead in their tracks. I thought they even looked a bit guilty.

The reverend recovered first. He turned on a boyish charm, and moved forward. "Why, hello Dr. Ferrand. It's good to see you so soon after you left. I'll go get Alice."

He moved quickly into the darkened interior of the large mission. The doctor leaned on the porch, and began to size up Dr. Ferrand. As both men seemed to have forgotten me, I began to shift off my high mount, only to have my skirt catch, and I tumbled with ungraceful limbs askew to the dust of the mission yard.

"Miss Williamson!" Dr. Ferrand moved to me, but the man on the porch was equally as speedy. I felt both men grab an elbow and hoist me up. Before I looked up, I had to swallow the ever present pit in my stomach before meeting their eyes.

"Doctor MacNeill, may I present to you the new teacher, Miss Catherine Williamson. She will be taking Miss Huddleston's place in her...er...absence." There was a thick meaning under Dr. Ferrand's words. They were nearly accusatory.

"Miss Williamson, this is Doctor Neil MacNeill, the physician of the area."

While the introductions were formal, this doctor was anything but. His clothes rumpled, his hair mussed, he looked to be of the mountain clay itself. He was completely unlike the doctors of the great English cities, and even those of the towns.

"It is a pleasure, Miss Williamson."

Even while I registered the intense and unexpected Scottish accent, I was aware of a deep resentment radiating from the doctor. I looked straight into his face, and read there an unmistakable anger. I was instantly confused, and we were thankfully interrupted by the arrival of another woman on the porch.

"Jacob!" It was Alice Henderson, the woman whom Dr. Ferrand had praised without end at his speech. She was more lovely than I had imagined, and with a regal walk that matched Jacob's arrogance. He seemed to glow at her voice, and took the stairs with a renewed vigor to reach her hand and kiss it with delight.

They began to move inside, and I hesitated. They were deeply engrossed in one another, and I had to again shove down the irresistible tears that threatened to spill into my throat. I swallowed, and looked up at the Doctor. He was sizing me up with a hard line to his mouth, and I stood to my full five foot seven frame.

"Do you see anything you like?" It was a challenge that was a reaction to the anger and dislike I saw written in his face. He looked surprised at my comment, and reared back before answering more cautiously.

"I–I am sorry, I didn't mean to–you're English."

"Yes." This was clipped.

Dr. Ferrand appeared in the doorway, impatiently waving us to follow him and Alice inside, and I marched in, aware of the Doctor following me.

So I arrived at Cutter Gap, Tennessee.

I knew I was replacing a Miss Christy Huddleston. While I was unaware of the reasons for her departure, she was discussed as if she were a delicate girl - and her topic even more so. She was spoken of as if she would return sometime soon, as if she were invaluable. I began to resent the large shoes I was to fill, and grew impatient for school to begin on Monday. Competition began to boil in my blood.

Alice Henderson was very kind to me. I was grateful for her kind words, and her smiles. The Reverend David Grantland was cordial enough, but I sensed in him the same anger and quivering anxiety that I felt in the Doctor MacNeill. I didn't pry, but I felt a growing resentment toward the two men as well.

Dr. Jacob Ferrand was in love with Alice Henderson, and she with him. I could see it was an old and comfortable love, and one that was shared with their individual work. It was odd to see something so lovely in the middle of this field of hostility.

School began on Monday. It was as if the gutter children of London came pouring into the tiny schoolhouse chapel. I had never been so overwhelmed at once with peering faces, and smells of all kinds. My throat tightened just the same. I liked children well enough, but I had always hoped for my own even more so.

My first week, lessons were punctuated with comments such as, "Miz Christy allays does it like so..." "D'ya know when Miz Christy's comin' back?" and "Why's your talk so funny, Miz Williamson? Doncha know we'zuns won th' war?"

I was teaching the children of proud Scots. They were the ancestors of the men and women that had fled the tyranny and cruelty of the kings of England. Some parents came to protest my presence at the mission by the end of the second week.

Yet Dr. Ferrand was firm. I was staying until Miss Huddleston returned. No one seemed to know the date or month of this return, but I was seen as completely temporary, perhaps not even worth any worry on the part of the parents. My self worth, already low, began to plummet with the passing days.

"David, thee must not worry. She will return when it is God's will. It is part of the plan we must accept, though we do not know it."

"I can't accept it, Alice. It's not right. If only MacNeill -."

"Doctor MacNeill shares the same rights you do, David. Thee cannot blame a man for wanting the same as you."

There was a heavy sigh, and then the Reverend bid Alice a brief good-night before clambering into the darkness toward the bunkhouse.

I was into my sixth week at the mission in Cutter Gap, and while no one bothered to pepper questions about my past, I was tired of being left out of the heavy silence. I moved onto the dusky porch, and sat quietly next to Alice.

She chuckled. "And what does thee have to say?"

I looked at her quickly. "What do you mean by such things?"

She chuckled more deeply. "It is known by now that you speak much, and sharply, whatever it is that is on your mind. You have won the respect of the people in that, at least."

I shrugged, and then directed my question without acknowledging her compliment.

"What is going on, Alice?"

She stilled. "Go on."

"Why did Christy Huddleston leave? Why do you suppose the Reverend and the Doctor despise my presence? I know nothing of my situation or my circumstances, and it is tiresome and frustrating. She must have been well loved, so I see no direct reasons for her departure. I know only that Dr. Ferrand hired me on what appeared to be a whim, and I've been here for a month and a half, barely hanging on. Tell me, Alice, what am I missing?"

She sighed, and was silent for a while. Then,

"If only you had been here...it is hard to describe something that was so palpable, yet so subtle. Christy was intensely loved from two completely different perspectives on behalf of the Doctor MacNeill and the Reverend Grantland. They both approached her, accidently on the same afternoon, and questioned her direction. Unfortunately for our Christy, she had been somewhat dangling the two and they had finally gotten sick of the wait. She was...sadly, indecisive in all categories and left the next morning to return to her hometown. She left a note, saying she needed to think. We don't know any more than that. However, she was much loved, as you say truly, and is sorely missed."

"I am a farce, then." I chucked bitterly, my accent more sharp with the resentment in my tone. "For everyone sits in hopeful waiting for her return. I shall never gain the love of the people, or the simple harmony of humanity from the Reverend and the Doctor."

Alice shrugged, and pressed my hand, and murmured quiet words of consolation, but they were not enough, for I could tell she was reflecting on Christy.

I moved away, then, and the next day I resumed my teaching.

Another two months passed without questions. The youngest children brought me flowers the first day of spring, and their eyes were warm, starved for love. And I hugged them tightly, pressing my faces to their soiled clothes, holding back tears that grew powerful with many thoughts.

I began to tutor the elder children during recess. England's education system was different than the American one, and there were some new theories and concepts that Christy Huddleston had not known to teach. They were hungry for knowledge, and I began to enjoy their quiet regard.

In hoping against hope, I saw a change in the students. It was slowly responded by a mutual affection on my part, which began to be reciprocated in the actions of the parents. One child brought a jar of honey one day, compliments of her father. I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders.

Alice began to confide in me with small matters of the heart and soul. Yet I could not let myself open up to the people. I felt alone in my faith, and couldn't make a noise during the church services I was expected to attend.

This was noticed one Sunday, and while everyone was eating a hearty supper prepared by Ruby Mae, the Reverend mentioned,

"Miss Williamson, do you become overwhelmed at church?"

My head shot up. All heads looked at me, and I was acutely aware of the Doctor's eyes. He would be harsh on me, for I knew he was an atheist.

Unwillingly, I swallowed the lump in my throat. It was four months into my stay in Cutter Gap, and it was the first time a question was directed at me which would force me to make mention of myself, my past, and my spirit.

"I–I am not familiar with the...tempo of your services, Reverend." We were all equally formal yet.

"How can you not be? They are similar everywhere in the area. Unless they are differently spoken in England?"

"N-oo..." I sighed, gathered my plates, prepared for an escape. "I–I'm Protestant...Church of England, really...I..."

At the intake of breath at the table, I sped toward the kitchen, slamming the door behind me. I heard a fuddle of voices and scrapping cups, and indignation. Over all this, the Doctor's demand,

"So–what exactly does that mean?"

I heard a distinct treble that was the Reverend's voice, and several long moments later, I heard quick footsteps toward the kitchen.

Without a moment to wait, I dropped the dishes I had been holding, and dashed quickly to the back door, whisking around the corner the moment the door was slowly swung open. I heard the Doctor's voice:

"Miss Williamson!"

I moved across the porch and glanced out into the evening. It was the beginning of summer, and I could see a half moon in the sky, and I longed to run out into the dusk. Yet I did not know these woods, and there were no never-ending moors for me to dash across.

As I hesitated, there was a step behind me, and I swung around to see the burly Doctor scrutinizing me from the doorway.

"Don't run out there, woman, are ye mad? Without a shawl in the evening and without an escort?"

"These were the same thoughts that I just gave pause to now, Doctor." I looked at him, unable to read his face with the light of the kitchen shining behind him, and yet I thought I could feel the same resentment in his body language, tempered perhaps by my flight, but nothing else.

"Well, then, come back inside. There is no need to run from the table."

I snorted a laugh. "I don't desire to go in and face the same nest of vipers that have been circling me since the moment I arrived. I'll wait for Dr. Ferrand to find me and dismiss me. Until then, I have no need to seek them out."

He moved toward me. "At least come in. It's a chilly night."

I eyed him up, and finally the anger spilled from a torrent within. "I'd take the wild of the forest before spending time with the likes of you!"

He stopped short. "What have I ever done?"

"Stop!" I made a violent movement with my hand. "You–all of you! Every person here dislikes me. If Alice hadn't explained it the other day, I would still be wondering why I must face such hatred every day! Now I know. I can never live up to Christy Huddleston, and I have had the misfortune to be her temporary replacement. Never in my life have I felt so misplaced, so disliked. I thought to come here to help others - to take away my own pain - but now I am sunk lower than when I had begun. All this anger toward me, simply because I exist here and now. And this - this resentment I feel most acutely in both you and the Reverend. I am not Christy Huddleston, but I am not the one who drove her away!"

"Miss Williamson, you forget yourself–!" he cut in, but I lunged forward, pointing my fingers at him. He would take the brunt of my anger. At this point I did not care who it was that did, and I couldn't stop.

"Indeed! I have forgotten myself here - for no one remembers me, nor cares for my spirit. It is difficult to love oneself when there is nothing to support it. Christy–!"

"You will leave Miss Huddleston out of this!" he hissed at me, and I felt a growing force inside of him. How passionate he was to defend this woman, the same one who had thwarted him for years.

"No, for her ghost brings my unhappiness, Doctor. Remember yourself. You and the Reverend both resent yourselves for your place in your little love triangle, and you both take it out on me. It is not–not–!" I felt my chest closing in, and my lungs contracted. Sorrow engulfed me, and I felt darkness press itself on my eyes. I took a step away from the Doctor, and blindly to the stairs of the porch, only to stumble on the first one.

I felt him instantly at my side, his arm around my waist, his cheek pressed to mine, and a hot line sank through my body.

Sobs that I had pressed away were suddenly there, wrenching their way through my frame, shaking my very core, and a thousand memories assailed me, and they gave me strength. Gasping for breath, I drew myself up, and surprised the Doctor's aid by tossing aside his arm, and giving a mighty shove to his broad chest, I was able to make it to the kitchen before he was able to grasp my upper arm.

"Miss Williamson-I am a Doctor-let me–."

"No!" My voice was hoarse with silent sobs, my body surrendering to months of repression. "Go away!"

I fought him again, and he let me go, following closely as I ran up the stairs.

I realized he felt a gentleman's guilt at making a woman cry, and perhaps a professional interest in my health, and this did nothing to appease me.

By the time I reached my room, I glanced down, and saw Alice and the Reverend, and Dr. Ferrand staring up after the Doctor and me.

"Neil - is everything–?"

I didn't pause, and I slammed the door in front of the Doctor, who began to insistently knock without pause. When I didn't answer, the knock became a pound.

Moving to the bed, I sat numbly, and stared into the mirror across the room.

Once I had been vaguely celebrated as a beauty. My straight raven hair was tinted with red, my eyes a cornflower blue and evenly spaced. My cheeks were sculpted and ruddy, and my limbs were long and round. But now my eyes were blood shot and lined with pink, and my thin mouth trembled with uncontrolled anguish. I sank into the pillows, and curled into a fetal position on the bed, facing the door in case I needed to stand my ground.

I heard Alice's voice, and the pounding stopped, and slowly there were retreating footsteps. To me, it was an unmistakable message. I was not even worth concerning themselves.

I woke, shivering and sweating at the same time, the next morning. Glancing in the mirror again, I was not surprised to see a feverish glint in my eyes. Yet I was determined to continue my charade at the mission, and went to class with a heavy heart.

Weeks passed, and I knew something was wrong. I was ill with some indistinguishable plague, one that I did not think Doctor MacNeill or Dr. Ferrand could fix. It was a sickness of the soul, one that plunged me into a dark abyss, that I could no longer climb out of myself.

Appetite slowly disappeared, yet I found myself dry heaving in the evenings on an empty stomach. Only the older children commented later.

"Miz Williamson, is you feelin' fine?"

"Yes, Zady, I am perfectly fine, thank you dear," I amended at the end of our study session on a Friday. "I'm sure it's just the cooler weather coming, now it's October."

With a firm smile, I watched them all move into the darkness with their candle lanterns, and began my walk back to the mission.

It was dark, as the meal of the evening was over, and Ruby Mae had retired, and David to the bunkhouse. Dr. Ferrand had left, and Alice was in Cataleechi. It had been a surprise when Dr. Ferrand hadn't dismissed my teaching, and to this day, I didn't understand it.

As I slowly climbed the steps, I noticed an eerie, unnatural orange glow in the darkness of the porch, and hesitated.

"Who's there?" My throat stuck - I would have screamed for Ruby Mae. But legs unfolded, and the Scottish brogue came smoothly,

"It's me, Miss Williamson."

"Oh. Right. Well, it's a nice night for a pipe," I put cautiously, and started to move past him, but he stopped me.

"Come sit a spell."

I stood still, undecided. When the Doctor shifted over, I felt that etiquette demanded it of me, if only for a moment. I perched uncomfortably on the edge he offered, and waiting for him to continue.

For the longest moment, he seemed content to be a silent companion, and refilled his pipe with practiced methodology. Finally, he breached the topic,

"So...Dr. Ferrand did not dismiss you as you had thought."

"No. It's a mystery."

There was a pregnant, expectant pause, then a sigh from the Doctor. "I wanted to tell you–I demanded you stay."

I snapped a laugh. "Because you were guilty for making a woman cry?"

"Because you are a fine teacher, and the people are growing to respect and admire you."

"How noble," I sneered. He moved on the bench.

"This isn't want you wanted?"

I threw up my hands. "I wanted care! Affection! Respect is very well...but...I have a heart! It could love them..."

"But does it?" he countered.

I swung to face him. "How dare you question it?"

"I only question if you've got one at all."

My back eased to the wooden swing behind me. Fight swelled and then left me, and I seemed to feel the emptiness I had brought myself.

"Why do you ask these questions, Doctor MacNeill?"

"Because I see you are ill, and yet not so. What is it that plagues you? Why do you avoid all but the mountain folk - who do love you, in fact, though perhaps they are not so verbal. What is it about you, Miss Williamson?"

I shook my head. "Why should you care? I have been here for months, and no one bothers about me. By now I have learned of my unimportance."

There was another longer pause, and then slowly, I felt him move and take my hand into his large warm one. It was a simple gesture, but a touch I needed more than I had known.

"Then let's start over."

I began to laugh bitterly, when he began with a low voice, "Hello, Miss Catherine Williamson. My name is Doctor Neil MacNeill. How do you do?"

I stopped moving, and realized his point. I nodded toward him and was silent before saying in return, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor MacNeill."

"Please, call me Neil."

It was an unexpected gift, and I returned the favor. "Then you must call me Catherine."

He nodded, and asked, "What part of England do you hail from?"

"London. The central part." I found my voice growing stronger with his questions, my spirit filling with a small amount of hope.

The Doctor did not remove his hand, and began to absently trace shapes on the back of my palm with his thumb. He continued conversationally,

"Tell me about yourself."

This was too general, and I begged pardon. "What do you mean?

"Tell me your life story."

My parents had died five years ago from a small outbreak of plague during the summer in London. It was highly contagious, but miraculously I had survived caring for them. In their absence, I was taken in by a poor uncle, who was busy with four children of his own, and a wife who went about her chores half dead. From this wreckage, I was rescued by a young merchant, John Dover, who I saw every day when I went to the market for a little this or that.

My uncle was too poor for a dowry, and in any case, he had two daughters of his own. We were desperately and completely in love, and so John Dover decided we would journey to America and marry there. He had heard so many tales of riches and possibilities, that he spend the better part of a year skimping and saving to afford two of the cheapest tickets to the New World.

By the time I explained to my uncle what was happening, I had already made my body a temple to John Dover, and we experienced much happiness together. We were married in all but legal terms, and though this was highly against my Christian relations, they were nearly overjoyed when we left on the sea, as it was one less mouth to feed.

Our journey to New York was not a pleasure trip, and my John Dover grew ill with the fever. It was not the plague, but it was seven days before our arrival into America that he succumbed to the disease, and I was horrified to learn his proper burial would be no more than a prayer as he was cast into the never-ending ocean.

What a lonely arrival it was for me - friendless and alone. I had so little money I took immediately to hire myself as a maid to the ladies of the area. My English accent was a novelty to the women, and I soon found myself as housekeeper in one of the smaller mansions in the city.

Five years passed in New York, and I saved money with the hopes of moving west. It had been John's dream to own a place of our own, and I aimed to the free openness of the prairies out west. Yet I was side-tracked by Dr. Ferrand's potent speech, and moved into the mountains against my better judgment.

"Thus, I am here, on this porch, with you." I finished. "Now, it is your turn."

Doctor MacNeill sat, still holding my hand, and then began in a low voice to tell his story of loss. He brushed over his training in Scotland, and dwelled little on his childhood. He then proceeded to explain how his wife and baby had died long ago, how that wife was Alice Henderson's daughter, and how Christy Huddleston seemed to have filled the gap in his life perfectly.

He finished by looking at me. "You mourn your loss yet."

"I haven't found anything to fill it. You have. It's easier, I think, for you then."

The Doctor shook his head. "It's not entirely filled. Christy is gone."

"For now," I reminded. "She is supposed to return."

He nodded, and then knocked out his pipe. "I'm sorry for your loss. You mustn't let it kill you any more."

"I won't," I managed. He had been so kind to me.

"But you have been. You must promise me to eat, and to stop looking as if you will faint and die any day. I can't cure your illness with medicine."

I nodded, and yet did not promise.

Christmas came and went, but in the thaw of April, I began to feel ill again. It had been good to share my thoughts with the Doctor, but after our exchange of words, I felt myself growing attached to him in a woman's way, and this I did not enjoy.

By May, it was thought that Christy would not return, and more and more openness was shown to me by the mountain families. The Reverend's behavior became playful with me, and I was able to laugh at some of his antics.

And the Doctor was intensely my most confidant friend. He and I would sit idly at night yet, and we would chat on minuscule things, or objects of the world. We missed our overseas island, and we could discuss places and events with fondness together. There was affection growing between us, and the Doctor began to hold my hand more often, in the light of day as we would walk in the woods.

I did not object this, but I feared my illness was a lovesickness. This was almost as bad. I thought perhaps the Doctor knew his affect on me, but it was early to ask properly, and I still was uncertain as to his designs.

It was nearly September when the Doctor arrived at the mission. I was alone for the afternoon, and I had apple pies nearly in the oven. He inhaled loudly.

"Ach! And it's going to be delicious!"

I smiled openly at him, and he responded by coming closer. I noticed a feverish light in his eyes, and he clasped both my hands earnestly.

"Catherine - you - will you be my girl?"

"Oh Neil - I have been."

He paused, words trembling on his lips, passion spilling from his shoulders and arms. I felt his body move instinctively to me, and I daringly put a hand on his rough cheek.

"I'd been hoping you'd ask, though."

At my affirmation, he closed the gap between our bodies, and held me so tightly that I felt faint. His mouth was at once at my ear and jaw, peppering light kisses on my eyes and lashes before capturing my mouth in one breathless gulp.

I'm not sure exactly how long it lasted, with the Doctor still wearing his coat, his hands roaming my back, while I kept mine at my sides as they were covered in flour and dough. We stopped momentarily, and I smiled up at him.

"Thank you."

"For the kiss?" he teased. "You're quite welcome."

"No–for giving me reason to find joy again. Through you I have been able to find my spirit. It–it is beautiful."

"Like you." He murmured, and leaned down for a softer and shorter kiss.

I looped my arms around him. "Does this mean we are courting?"

"I should hope it makes it more specific than that," he countered, and squeezed me tightly.

The next week, Christy Huddleston returned unannounced.

She was surprised to see me there, and yet was kind and sweet to me. I could instantly understand why everyone had loved her so completely, for she was innocent and good-hearted. David immediately followed her with puppy eyes everywhere she moved, and was exceptionally in good spirits.

Mountain folk came in flocks and droves to see her, and I waited tensely for Doctor MacNeill to arrive.

He did, pounding into the yard on his horse, and slid without pause. Christy's head shot up and a smile glowed on her face at the sight of him. I shut my eyes in painful realization. She had reflected the year away, and her decision was my Doctor.

Doctor MacNeill gazed uniformly at both myself and Christy. I looked down at the pretty young thing, and realized I could not be compared. In seeing him approach, I was appalled to see confusion and perhaps anguish on his face. He looked tortured, and I knew I had grown to love him enough to say good-bye to him as well. He could be like John Dover, a dead love, and now that Christy was back, I was free to leave the Cove the next day should I wish.

Slowly, I descended to meet him on the yard, and I heard Christy shift in wait for him to climb up to her.

His blue eyes met mine, straight and clear, and I heard him inhale to speak, but I stopped him with a touch on his sleeve.

"It's alright, Neil. I understand. It will be easier this way, now, if I go. You must settle your affairs with her, and I am sure you will be happy. I wish you–." My breath caught and hitched, and he covered my hand with his, and looked shocked when I drew it quickly away. "I wish you very much joy. Good-bye, my love."

I moved with great speed away from him, toward the schoolhouse, fully intent on bringing back my books to begin packing.

I didn't expect to hear him pounding after me. There were words on the porch, and I couldn't decipher even the tone as I moved toward the steps on the schoolhouse. Pausing, I wiped my eyes and glanced to the yard, where I saw him still standing on the ground, and her above him. He looked toward me, and I sprung into action, into the schoolhouse.

I had barely finished my packing and was walking out slowly when there were fast steps outside, and the Doctor was bounding up the stairs with fire in his face.

"What are you doing, woman?"

"Just–tidying up. For Christy. She'd want it nice."

"What?" He saw the pile of books I had stacked, ready to pack. "Catherine–you're not leaving."

"Why not? I'm not needed here any more–."

In three steps he had covered the distance between us, and had grabbed me into his locked embrace. I struggled until his mouth was at my ear. Whispering savagely, he stated,

"Yes, you are! You are going to marry me, Catherine."

I shook my head. "You don't understand, Neil. I don't want to be your duty, or your default. You have Christy back. She was going to choose you–."

"The woman took four years to finally decide she wanted me! For God's sake, Catherine, what kind of love would I be accepting?"

"A slow one? A forever one?"

"Horse shit!" He swore and stormed away from me, only to come back to press his face close to mine.

"Don't you understand? There are more ways to love a person, and I do not want the love she is offering me. I want yours! Yours, Catherine! I love you – love you! Desperately and completely." He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, then looked at me for my opinion.

I gave it, slowly. "I love you just as desperately. I'd have your children the moment we laid together. It is now the one and only path I see before me, and I am in pain when I am without you, for you make me lovesick. But I cannot have you forgetting your first love. Christy is here for you, and I want you to take what you want."

"I want you!" he exclaimed. "Christy did not offer me her heart at her return! She was guilty she had stayed away without explaining herself, and said she is back to see us all. There are no plans for her to stay, and she is confused as ever by the Reverend's charms. She may favor me at this moment, but–." Here he pulled me near him.

"I am not cut out for a girl. I want you - a woman - the one who I have chosen without any regards or worries. I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd let me, damnit, Catherine! How can I prove it to you?"

I shrugged, and then gave him a wry smile. "Marry me tomorrow."

And he did. I'd never met a man more sure of himself.

Christy left the next week. She had showed up at the wedding, and was stunned with the turn of events. Neil explained their discussion on the stairs once I had left him there. He'd turned to her and said,

"I see you've met my betrothed."

"I–." Miss Huddleston had been at loss for words. "I thought she was the new teacher..."

"Aye, she is. She's also the woman of my heart. I hope to marry her soon enough."

"Neil–I'm sorry. I thought you and David would –."

"Move on? Aye...why would we wait after all this time? Or were you going to say you'd chosen me, finally?"

David had whistled from indoors, and Christy's head had turned. "I–I wasn't...I mean, I'm back to see you all…"

Neil had snorted, and they had stared at each other in silence before he'd gone to find me.

Thus we married, and I was never again doubtful of my husband, nor my purpose or place, or my soul.


End file.
